


Adventures of a Magical Cockslut: The Witch

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, Intercrural Sex, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-04 00:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14007828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Caine Priestly has three things that define him to the outside world. One, he’s a witch. Two, he’s absurdly pretty for a boy. Three, he’s an absolute cock slut. If you’re good looking and have an average or bigger dick, he’s on you faster then you can say ‘slut’. He uses his magic almost exclusively to help with sex, keeping his hole tight, clean, and STD free and making sure he’s always ready and raring to. Magical sex toys aren’t so bad either.





	1. A Little Magic Never Hurt Anyone

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for this chapter: None. It's pretty explicit, but all concentual.

A boy, roughly sixteen with medium long hot pink hair, a blue tongue bar, and a face that wouldn’t look wrong on a more curvasious body licks his lips, turning the pages of a heavy navy blue tome. He lays on his back on a bed of black sheets and pink accent pillows, bare feet pushed against the tufted black leather headboard. His milky white thighs are visible, though his cock and balls are covered by an oversized band t-shirt. He looks thoughtful, for a moment, before growing bored and tossing the book away. He dives for his phone, which reminds him that it’s nearly three in the morning. He has school tomorrow, which brightens his mood. New school, new town, and new fuck toys. He grabs his headphones and turns on his masturbation playlist after a quick scroll through his Spotify. He rummages through his nightstand, pulling out a large blue vibrator and a tube of cherry lube. He’s gotten a little too well aquatinted with this thing since the move. He’s still grounded from whatever it is he did to piss his mother off before they moved, and it’s hard to sneak out and find a partner while his mother enjoys her vacation downstairs. He shakes his head. She’s the last person he wants to think about while he works his hole open in order to feed the sizable blue cock inside him. Two fingers is nothing, really, especially since he’s already fulfilled this particular need twice tonight. He needs a shower after this, he decides, pressing a third finger in. He was hard when he started, but, well, he hasn’t gotten off on just fingers in over a year. He pulls his fingers out, biting back a whine, and begins to push the large blue faux phallis inside his tight hole. It’s slow going, probably because of his always a tight ass spell. He really needs to thank whoever came up with that one, otherwise he’d never have been able to get off so much. He stretches to accommodate it and grabs the remote from under his pillow. He gets comfortable, closes his eyes, and turns it on. 

It’s well and truly torture, how amazing it feels, but it isn’t real sex the way he likes it. There’s no real end to it. No cum to fill him up, leak out of his slutty backdoor, no in and out he loves so much. No balls smacking against his ass or fingers leaving navy blue and plum purple bruises on his skin. 

But if he keeps thinking about what it isn’t he’ll never get off. He sighs and relaxes into the silk sheets beneath him and lets his mind drift. The steady buzzing against one of his most sensitive parts is enough, he knows, but a little fun never hurts. He reaches up, running his fingers over a pebbled nipple. The raised flesh is easily abused and he twists it, whimpering. It’s easy to imagine he’s enjoying the company of an overzealous lover, punishing him with pleasure before the fuck of his life. His stomach is slick with pre-cum and he works both nipples in an effort to push himself over the edge. 

His back arches, a moan being cut off by his hands, and he cums all over himself. He blinks tired baby blue eyes open and snaps his fingers. The sheets are clean, again, but he really does need a shower. With a sigh he removes the toy, spells it clean, and puts it away before ambling over to the bathroom with a yawn. 

 

His mother is waiting downstairs at seven, all dressed for work, and she hesitates before handing him his car keys. She moves a few stray strands of hair out of his face and kisses his forehead. "Be a good boy Priestly, okay? I don't wanna get any calls  _this week_ at least about your behavior." 

Priestly nods. "Does this mean I'm not grounded anymore?" 

His mother sighs before nodding. "Yes, alright, two months is punishment enough I suppose. Your curfew is ten, which is city wide so don't think it's my way of punishing you. If you're not back by then and you get arrested you can spend the night in jail." 

Priestly rolls his eyes. "Yes mother." 

She rolls her eyes right back and grabs her purse off the table. "Don't fuck around Caine Margaret Priestly, or I will dig out those baby pictures you hate so much." 

"Mom!" 

She snorts and leaves, slamming the door shut behind her. 

Priestly grabs a box of sugary cereal out of the cupboard. "I swear, when she gets a boyfriend I'm gonna seduce him and fuck him in her bed." With that cheery thought, he grabs the milk and gets a bowl down. What better way to start the day then with over thirty grams of sugar and his second favorite white liquid? 

 

Priestly checks himself out in the mirror one last time. His eyeliner is just thick enough to rim his eyes, draw attention to the vibrant blue oceans trapt there, with just enough mascara to make his already long lashes compliment the adrongenous quality of his face even more. His pink hair has been brushed, though it still falls sexily into his face. He's wearing skin tight leather pants and a black and pink stripped t-shirt as well as black combat boots. The t-shirt has a hidden pocket, just big enough for a small tube of lube, which is good because he can't even get a finger in the pocket of these pants. Jewelry wise he picked a pink tongue bar and a black choker. He's ready to seduce the first person who calls him a faggot. 

 

Harrisburg Highschool is just like every other school he's ever been to, save for the fact that it's a bit smaller and a lot more brown toned. He pulls into the parking lot on the black Vespa his mother bought him for his last birthday. He forgets which exact line it's from, but it gets him from a to b and he rarely has to fill it up. His backpack is slung over his shoulder, black pleather and covered in enamel buttons and patches. He glances at his phone. He's supposed to head to the office so the principal can bring him to first period. Sounds fun. If they want him to introduce himself to the class he should just say he plans on majoring in cock in college. With a snort he heads inside. 

 

Apparently, everyone introduces themselves in homeroom on the first day. It's one of those overly friendly schools. He half expects to have to give the pledge of allegiance as well, but it doesn't come up. The teacher is a woman, Mrs. Robinson, how cliche. He doesn't bother anymore with her. His interest is very singularly focused on six of the fourteen other boy's in the class, and he scribbles their names down in his little black book. He crosses names out as he fucks them. It helps him keep track. 

"Caine Priestly!" Mrs. Robinson calls, probably not for the first time.

He blinks, rubbing at his eyes. "Yeah?" 

"You're supposed to say three things about yourself." A girl whispers in his ear and he nods, best not to get his mother called so early. 

"Uh, I speak and read Latin, I've been to four foreign countries because of my mom's work, and I'm double jointed." 

Mrs. Robinson grins at him. "Really, where?"

"France, England, Sweden, and Russia." He glances back at his notebook. "Aside from words I've been warned against using in school, I didn't really pick up on much language there though." 

A boy in a varsity jacket snorts loudly, and a few others snicker into their notebooks. 

Mrs. Robinson nods. "You'll have to give us the details another time then. Alright, Henry O'Hara, your turn." 

 

The cafeteria is jam packed, and Priestly's ripping into a bag of chips from the vending machine instead of school lunch. Nothing really looked appealing, but Doritos and a Coke seemed like a pretty good alternative. He spots the jock from homeroom, laughing his with friends. Erik Decker is just delectible, with his messy blond hair and friendly green eyes. Another boy swings an arm over his shoulder, dark brown eyes lifted in laughter. His black hair is buzzed short on his scalp. He makes a note of a few other good looking options in his head, but for now he'll stick with home room. 

 

The door to the boy's bathroom opens just as he starts drying off his hands. Erik Decker pulls his cock out in front of the urinal and lets fly. Priestly takes a little longer drying his hands then normal, not bothering to hide the way he's glancing at the fat cock the other teen's been hiding in his blue jeans. 

"Like what you see, faggot?" Erik smirks, fisting his length for emphasis. 

"I know exactly what I am thanks." Priestly tosses his paper towel in the trash. "Question is, do you want in pretty boy, or are you just fucking with me?" 

Erik turns to face him, half hard, and smirks. "Blow me and maybe I'll fuck you up against the mirror."

"Wash up and I'll lock the door." Priestly counters, heading for the door. He hears the sink turn on. "You were just pissing, get your dick to or it's going nowhere near my mouth." 

"Yeah, yeah slut. Hold your fucking horses. We've got a half hour before class starts, plenty of time for me to loosen your cunt." Erik dries his hands and dick before tossing the paper towels. 

Priestly kneels on the tile floor in front of him and reaches for the hard cock in his face. He leans forward and licks the head, watching Erik shiver, before pulling the length into his mouth. He holds onto the blond jock's thighs, pressing him against the wall, and sucks lazily.

"Ah yeah bitch." Erik fists a hand in Priestly's pink hair, thrusting forward and pushing another inch of his cock down the other teen's throat. "You like that? You like fucking your face on my fat cock, bitch?" 

Priestly deep throats him instead of answering, moaning around him. 

Erik pushes him off a moment later. "Grab the counter and bend over sweetheart. And try to relax, wouldn't wanna tear your pretty ass, now would we?" 

Priestly smirks and stands, obeying. The cold countertop presses against his nipples and he keens. "Fuck me already!" 

Erik smacks his ass, grinning when the other boy yelps in surprise. "I knew from the moment I saw you that you were a pretty little cock slut."

"Yeah, so?" Priestly glances back at him. "We've got like fifteen more minutes and I'd really like to get off, fuck me." 

Erik grabs his hips, shaking his head, and starts to push in. 

It's hard, not even a joke. He's tightened up quite a bit since this morning and Erik isn't exactly small. Spit is shitty lube. Priestly mumbles a spell into the countertop, and Erik slides in a lot easier. Not enough to notice. The fingers on his hips are gonna leave some fucking beautiful bruises, nails digging in deep enough to draw blood. Erik pulls out almost all the way before slamming his hips forward, right into Priestly's prostate, and Priestly moans. "Fucking yes!" 

Erik sets a brutal pace, fucking him open and using him like a blowup doll, but whatever, it feels good and nearly every thrust is hitting his prostate. Erik's balls smack against his ass, his lips are pressed against Priestly's neck, there's gonna be a pretty hicky there when he's done. Priestly cums with a whine and Erik continues to fuck his overstimulated ass for another couple minutes before he pushes himself over the edge with a roar. He pulls out and looks over his handywork, the fucked out form beneath him. Priestly's shaking, cum slipping out of his ass and dripping down the counter onto the floor. His hips are already starting to bruise, and there's an obvious hicky on his neck. 

Erik smacks his ass again, watching the shorter teen shiver, before pulling his pants up and zipping them closed. He pulls a sharpie out of his bag and writes his number on Priestly's ass. "Call me if you want a repeat." He leaves with a chuckle and a wave, unlocking the door as he goes. 

Priestly grins at the floor. "I so fucking have to call him again." 

 

Priestly's playing Devil May Cry 3 on the PS3 in the living room when his mother gets home. His shirt collar covers the hicky, at least. She drops a pizza box on the coffee table, kicks her heels off, and bites into a slice. 

"How was school? Make any friends?" 

Priestly smirks, not looking away from the screen. "There's this guy in homeroom who gave me is number. He wants to hand out sometime." 

She nods. "Good. And you didn't get into any trouble, right?"

"No, mother, I behaved myself like a perfect angel." 

She snorts. "Yeah, sure you did. As long as the principal doesn't call me, we're square. Get your homework done?" 

"Only Math assigned anything and I got it done an hour ago. Wanna check my answers?"

"God no." His mother checks her phone, groaning. "Crap, I've been called back in. Behave yourself." 

"Okay." He grabs a slice of pizza while she slips her shoes on and grabs her purse, running back outside. He glances at his phone, dialling. "Hey, Erik, my mom's got a late night at the office. How about I text you my address? I've got pizza." 

_"Why don't you doll yourself up for me and I'll be right over?"_

Priestly giggles. "Sure thing, sparky."

_"See you in a few, cock slut."_


	2. Hate Sex is Great Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough sex, intercrucial sex, some somnophilia, all about as concentual as you can get.

Priestly wakes up the next morning wearing Erik's jersey (he'd shown up after football practice) with a plug firmly situated in his ass and a cock thrusting between his thighs. "Fuck, I thought I had stamina." He giggles and Erik licks the shell of his ear. "Morning baby. How'd you sleep?"

"You woke me up three times by pulling the plug out and fucking me, asshole, how do you think?" Priestly grinds back against him before grabbing his phone. "It's almost seven, get us off so I can take a shower." 

Erik groans. "Almost there, fuck, say something dirty." 

"You litterally woke me up with intercrucial sex and  _you need me to talk dirty._ " He snorts. "Okay, fuck, shit. God, that's good. Keep bumping the plug- _fuckfuckfuckfuck-_ FUCK, I'm gonna wear the damn thing to school. Feel you in me all day." 

Erik thrusts forward one more time before spilling his load. He makes a few half aborted thrust, riding out his orgasm. He slaps Priestly's ass and the other boy cums with a whine. 

"Are you?" 

"God no, no one's gonna fuck me if I'm stuffed full of your sperm, Decker." Priestly groans, pushing up into a sitting position. 

Erik smirks. "Sore?" 

"Remind me to only call you if I'm out of options. And to prep myself first. Fuck, you know what lube is don't you?" He stands on shaking limbs and walks slowly towards the bathroom. "See you in class."

"See ya." Erik heads out the window, jumping down onto the garage. 

 

School is boring. Not because he's stupid or because it's dull, well, it is dull, but because no one even attempts to make it interesting. The teachers are either old or female, so he can't fantasize his way though class. The other students take their notes and stumble along like drones, the perfect sociatal machines, until lunch. He actually bothers to identify the cliches this time. Erik and his handsome friend are jocks, they sit with a host of preppy, bubbly cheerleaders that flirt by twirling their hair and fluttering their eyelashes. There's also a few more attractive then average jocks with them, who's names he resolves to learn just long enough to fuck them. Next is punks, vibrant hair, piercings, and the occasional tattoo. He hasn't had class with any of them except for a girl who wears many different shades of black and seems to aspire towards the vampire-victorian acestetic. The boy to her right has cherry red hair and a studded belt. They're half stuck in the scene stage, but whatever, there's a shit ton of hot guys that he'll have to seduce at some point. He's drawn to the nerds next, noses buried in textbooks, and their subsidiary of geekdom, with comic books and graphic novels spread out beside styrofoam trays of lunch time slop. He recognizes a handsome face from his homeroom, who'd looked at him with awe when he mentioned speaking Latin, and had only gotten more excited when he heard about inappropriate words in foreign tongues. He wonders how quickly the pretty nerd with stormy grey eyes and spiky brown hair would get off inside him if he talked dirty in, fuck Russian or Latin, or both, who knows. French is too romantic. Russian's fucking crass, or at least the words he knows are, but that's half the fun of it. His eyes are caught by a pretty Hispanic boy surrounded by a bunch of slackers, half of them reaking of weed and probably worse. Definitely the person to approach if he's craving booze or a joint. Lunch ends and he throws his half empty bag of sour cream and onion chips in the trash.

 

He steps into Language Arts, ready to stick his nose in one of his magic books spelled to look like a textbook. He gets his book out, and a notebook as to appear like he's taking notes. He's halfway through a difficult passage on the Pheonix Phenomenon, a spell that can bring back the dead if cast within twenty minutes of death, soul intact when he hears an unfamiliar voice at the whiteboard. 

"My name is Isaac Sorenson, and I'll be replacing Mrs. Ellis as your AP Language Arts teacher starting today." Mr. Sorenson is certainly attention grabbing, with his vibrant ruby red eyes and slick black hair. Priestly blinks. Red eyes, pale skin...he flips to a page on vampires just as a hand grasps his shoulder. "Reading ahead?" Mr. Sorenson asks, voice low and gravel like. 

Priestly glances up at him, and the sharp canines porturding from his gums, and wonders what it feels like to get drained and fucked at the same time. This might just be his new favorite class. "Is that a problem, teach?"

Mr. Sorenson scowls at him. "Name."

"Caine Priestly,  _sir._ " He mock salutes the man before returning to the text. "And yes, I am a petulant little shit." 

Mr. Sorenson furrows his brow before removing his hand and ambling towards the front of the class. "As Mr. Priestly-"

"Just Priestly." Priestly reads a little farther into vampires, grinning at the frustrated growl he's coaxed out of his new toy. 

"Probably knows, chapter two is about Charles Dickens. We'll be reading a tale of two cities and you all will be writing a four thousand or more word, APA formatted paper, on your analysis of it." 

Priestly glances up at him, thankful for his  _fast forward and get a task done_ spell already. Apparently his lack of frustration is telling, because Sorenson outright scowls at him. "Priestly, stay after class." 

 

Everyone leaves when the bell rings, backpacks smacking against shoulders when they're hefted up, shoes squeaking against the shiny floors marred by strips of paper. He half expects a typical reprimand, not to interrupt, detention or perhaps a write up. Mr. Sorenson rises, locks the door, and stands in front of his desk. "Reading minds is very rude, you know."

Priestly blinks. Had he been reading the vampire's mind? He doesn't think so, but his magic gets ahead of him sometimes. "Sorry, wasn't aware I was. I'm self taught, control isn't easy to come by." 

Mr. Sorenson nods, a thoughtful 'hmmm' exiting his lips. "Well, can't exactly fault you for not knowing, can I? Although, you're playing the twat quite well." 

Priestly smirks. "Would you rather I play the slut, I'm told I'm much better at that role?" 

The vampire blinks at him, confusion coloring his face. "Elsbeth Priestly's son playing at being a whore. How the mighty have fallen." 

Ah, so the man knows his mother then. "I know what I like. Unless you plan on fucking me, I'd like to find someone who will." 

Mr. Sorenson sighs. "Tempting, but not worth the stake in the heart. After this semester I leave, so, if you behave maybe on the last day." 

Priestly walks over to him, pressing his lips against the man's exposed throat. "She doesn't know what I get up to. I won't tell her." 

Sorenson growls low in his throat. "Do not tempt me."

"Aw, but I'm so tempascious." 

"That is not a word. Go home." 

He whines. "Aw, but mister-"

He's shoved towards the door. 

"Get out Priestly."

Disappointed, but hopeful, he heads out to the parking lot.

 

The game is all about seduction and manipulation. He has to identify what it takes to get someone to give in. To fuck him, bring in their kinks and whatever else they have to offer. And if deep throating a cherry red lollipop after school while a punk scowls at him can give him what he wants, well, there's worst ways to spend his time. 

Spencer "Spike" Sloane missed the bus. Priestly overheard him call his brother, who's gonna pick him up after work. He's got four hours to kill and Priestly's just bored enough to play with him. 

Spike isn't going to fuck him. He's the kind of homophobe who's on the edge of anger and lust, but he'll pick anger. Priestly's probably gonna get punched but whatever. Pain is pleasure to a certain degree, and Spike's the kind of mouthwatering delight he craves. Dyed cherry red hair, angry brown eyes, slim and well muscled. He's also in the taller end of the spectrum, and damn if being looked down on isn't one of his many, many turn ons. 

"Stop that." Spike snaps, shoving his likely dead phone into his bag. "Faggot." 

Priestly grins, licking his sucker suggestively. "Wanna make me, pretty boy?" 

Spike growls, tosses his bag on the ground, and leans against the wall of the building. It's getting dark fast, Priestly notes, he'll have to head home soon. His phone goes off and he checks it.  _Headed out of town on business, see you in two weeks. - mom._ Priestly rolls his eyes. "Parents, seriously." 

Spike raises an eyebrow. "Surprised anything anyone does surprises you." 

"My mom's going out of town. Didn't even bother telling me not to throw a party." Priestly snorts. "Whatever. Teasing you's getting boring, I think I'll head out. Unless you wanna pull my pigtails, I'd like to get laid at some point tonight." Priestly turns to leave. 

"You know, from behind, you look like a girl." 

Priestly smirks. "So do you."

Spike's on him in seconds, shoving him against the wall, rage in his eyes. Priestly bites his lip seductively, watching, waiting. It's just a game, one that Spike's already lost. He might not be getting fucked, but the knowledge that Spike's gonna waste his seed tonight jerking off to the thought of him is more then satisfactory. "You fucking asshole-"

Priestly laughs. "Seriously, don't dish it out if you can't take it pretty boy. You wanna hit me? Fine. Don't care. I already got what I want from you." 

Spike glares down at him, fingers fisted in the other teen's t-shirt. "And what's that?"

"You're hard." Priestly giggles, pressing his knee between the other boy's legs. 

Spike releases his like he's been bitten, backing away. "No I ain't." 

Priestly shrugs, turning away. He bends over to grab his bag off the ground, turquoise skinny jeans accentuating his assets, and Spike inhales sharply. "Fuck it." 

Nimble fingers are fiddling with the button on his pants and he's shoved back towards the wall. "Don't talk, don't move, and don't fucking try me slut or I swear to God I'll break your fucking face." 

Priestly wiggles out of his pants. "One thing, unless you wanna prep me you can hand me the lube in my back pocket and I'll do it." 

Spike growls, biting down on his ear, but grabs the lube. 

Priestly whines, waiting. He hears the top of the tube pop off, eyebrows raised in surprise, and a moment later the head of a slickened cock is pressing against his dry ass.  _Fuck fuck fuck!_ He quickly casts the only lubrication spell he can think of, which is certainly not e-fucking-nough for the fucking coke can cock stretching him wide. Fucking straight, or in Spike's case closeted, boys and their lack of appreciation for lube. He keens and Spike shoves his face into the wall, hard. "You wanted it so fucking bad, don't go complaining now. Half expected you to be a gaping slut hole, but this ain't bad. Least I don't need a condom to fuck you open." 

"Too much! Too deep! Too fucking soon!" Priestly hisses into the wall. 

Spike laughs, digs his nails into Priestly's hips, and pulls back until the only thing inside is the head of his cock. He thrusts forward, sharply, and Priestly bites his hand to avoid screaming. This is slowly becoming more of a turn off then anything, and being anyone's cock sleeve is a no thanks for him, so he spreads his legs wider and leans forward, hoping for a better angle. Spike's cock hits his prostate off center, and it's better then nothing. He focuses on the other boy's shitty dirty talk and the full sensation of his ass as well as the occasional hit against his prostate. His cock twitches between him and the wall and he moans loudly when Spike  _actually manages to hit the fucker dead on._ He wants to throw a party - no a fucking parade. Spike starts aiming for that spot, wringing moans and cries out of him, until he's rock hard and his dick is scratching something awful against the wall. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me you bastard fucking CUM!" 

Spike does, and he follows right after him with a sob. 

Spike smirks down at him. "Not bad." 

Priestly grins into the wall. He'd gotten more then he bargained for. 

 

Cum's dripping down his pants leg, but, whatever. He's been thoroughly fucked and all he really wants is takeout and a pint of ice cream in front of the TV. The dripping gets annoying and with a snap he's clean again, but the pleasant soreness of being fucked senseless is still there. He's halfway to his Vespa when he spots an unmarked  _white van._ He takes out his phone, turning on the gps tracker. Wouldn't do not to pay attention. His mother texts him a moment later.  _Why's your gps alert on?_

_Van._ He manages to type, one handed. 

The van starts driving towards him and he runs for his motorcycle, fingers clasping at the helmet and tugging it on. Hard fingers grab at his shirt and he's dragged inside, phone falling to the ground. There's a needle in his arm before he can zero in on faces and he blacks out almost immediately. 


	3. Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Dubcon, non-con, kidnapping, mentions of slavery, violence

Priestly blinks his eyes open, throat dry and vision blurry. He arms are cuffed in front of him,  _stupid,_  he rolls his eyes. A whimper is nearly silenced by the gag in his mouth at the pain. His head absolutely aches, and he really wants water. Maybe something for the headache. He gets a look around the place. Alone in a cement room, an ankle chain preventing him from reaching the door. The gag keeps him quiet and makes it impossible to cast any useful spells. He can't rust the cuffs or light his captors on fire while incapable of speaking. He'll have to seduce his way out of this. He sighs and closes his eyes, content to keep from agravating his head anymore.

 

The door creaks open and he's greated by the sight of a handsome man in a blue tank top, glacial blue eyes hard and blond hair longer then one would expect. Priestly watches him, realizing quickly that even in a dangerous position he can still be aroused by the sight of such a specimen. The man's hard muscles are on display, though he's by no means bulky. Priestly smells herbs and oils on him, an alchemist or witch then, judging by the spelled tattoos on his arms. 

"The waring factions will pay plenty for a strong young witch." The man speaks, more to the empty room then him, before his eyes are drawn to the tent in Priestly's pants. His expression goes from ice cold to amused in a blink. "I've never had a prisoner be so blatantly aroused by the sight of me." 

Priestly scowls at him. However much he might want to be fucked by the tall blond in front of him, his freedom takes priority over his dick. 

His dick vehnomously disagrees.

"Would you like me to fuck you, pretty boy? Send you out with two points for sale - strong magic and a love of cock. Fetch a pretty penny." The man sits down in front of him, pulling his zipper down. "Maybe I'll keep you. You could be my personal cock warmer. Never wanting for a mouth or belly full of my cum." 

Priestly moans when the heel of the man's hand presses against his cock. 

The man laughs at him, a cruel and sadistic sound. "I could break you over every available surface, keep you open with a fat plug, and use you whenever I wish. Look at you, harder by the second while a grown man molests your little boy cock." 

Priestly snarls into the gag, fighting with his bindings. Sex is supposed to be on his terms, the way he wants it. He hasn't trained his body to be this way so some bastard slave trainer can fuck him as he pleases. Because he knows about men like this, who kidnap little witches and train them to serve the upper class of the magical community. Slaves, collared and forced, and he's not about to join the number of teenage magic slaves. 

The man smacks him. "Pretty noises only baby. Make more pretty sounds for Daddy." 

_Daddy._ God, he could barf. Not that's he's never called an older man Daddy, but god is it gross under the circumstances. But his chances of escape increase if he does as he's told, and he can't count on the GPS signal being useful after dropping his phone. 

Time to grin and bare it then. He bucks his hips, for more friction, and the man barks out a laugh. "Not emberassed at all, are you little slut?" 

Priestly glares at him, but continues. He's never minded the slur before and shouldn't start now. He reaches his bound hands towards the man and spreads his legs as best he can in the tight jeans. The man runs a finger alone his clothed crack, opposite hand still grinding against his dick. "C'mon, baby, moan for Daddy. That's it. Daddy'll give you something real nice in a minute, just keep making those pretty noises."

He swears to kill this fucker when this is over. 

The man reaches up and removes the gag. "Don't bother casting, magic doesn't work in the cages."

Priestly nods, moaning loudly. 

"Tell Daddy what you want."

"Fuck me Daddy!" He whines, fucking against the man's hand. 

The man's eyes go wide and his smirk takes on a feral quality, yanking Priestly's pants down before flipping him over. He stuffs his fingers in the pink haired teen's mouth. "Wasn't planning on sampling you, but if you insist. Get my fingers nice and wet baby, wouldn't wanna damage your hole now would we?" 

Priestly slurps on his fingers, coating them in saliva as best he can while dehydrated. The fingers are yanked out and shoved unceramoniously inside him and he bites back a scream.  _Fucking fuck fuck bastard fuck-!_ His tirade is cut short when the fingers brush against his prostate and he cries out. 

"Like that, do you?" The man laughs. "Pretty slut. Let's hurry and get you open so you can enjoy the main course, alright?" 

Priestly glances back at him, knows he's shaking and absolutely wrecked, but he can't help but bite out. "Can't wait, Daddy, need you  _now._ " 

God, he's falling into the fantasy. He really needs to work on his self control. 

Fuck self control, his dick leaking all over the floor and his ass is already sore, might as well enjoy himself. 

The fingers are eased out of him and the head of the man's fat cock is pressed against his rim. "Stay relaxed baby, Daddy isn't exactly  _small._ " 

_Shut up and fuck me!_ Priestly presses backwards, nearly impaling himself on the man's dick. The man smacks his ass. "Patience, little one. You'll get your treat when I'm ready." 

Priestly sputters, caught someone between shock and disgust, because of course the bastard would  _spank_ him. "Please!" 

The man chuckles and begins feeding his cock, inch by inch into the tight hole offered to him. "Here we go, baby, Daddy's got you." 

The pink haired boy beneath him trembles, suddenly not so sure about his seduction plan. The man's cock isn't all that thick, really, but he's long. Really long. Priestly's probably taken bigger before, but with better lubrication and magic at his disposal to numb any pain. "St- _stahp_ -! Too much! Too much!" 

Teeth bite into his shoulder and the man thrusts forward, burying himself in to the hilt. A sob catches in his throat and he bites down on any further sounds. He has to get through this. Fingers fist in his hair and his face is pressed into the cement floor, ass up, and the man sets a brutal pace, fucking him so hard his face scrapes against the floor and his headache gets worse from being bashed into the floor everytime his head moves. 

The man yanks his head up, off the floor. "Crying already baby? Don't you like Daddy's cock? Fucking you open-" He gives a particularly hard thrust, this time directly against Priestly's prostate, and snorts at the choked scream he gets. "You see, I don't like it when sluts like you play smart. You figured you could seduce me into letting my guard down so you could run. No one jumps the bones of someone who kidnaps them this quickly without an escape plan. Here's the truth kid. You leave this room when you're bought and collared, not a fucking moment sooner. But if you're so keen to get fucked, well, I don't mind coming by and fucking you stupid. In fact, I think I will. Every night I'll come to visit, fuck you into the floor, leave you bursting full of cum. You won't even be seen by perspective buyers for a couple weeks, by then I bet I'll have fucked your escape plans right out of your head." He thrusts forward, one more time, and blows his load inside the bruised and, Priestly notes with fear and nausea, bleeding body beneath him. 

The man pulls out and pats his ass before zipping himself up and leaving, the door slamming shut and locking behind him. 

Priestly curls up in a ball, drags himself into the corner, and forces himself not to puke. 

 

The door opens later, but it isn't the man. It's a girl with dark hair and purple eyes, a black leather collar around her neck. She sets a plate down in front of him and a bottle of water before removing the cuffs on his wrists and looking him over. "Try to eat something. I have a feeling you won't want to, but you need to keep your strength up." 

He stares at her. "I'm fine." 

She nods. "It's okay, you know, to be upset. You look like hell. There's no cameras here or anything, if you need to fall apart no one will know." 

"I'm  _fine._ " 

She stands. "No you're not, but if it makes you feel better to pretend, then more power to you." 

"I asked for it." 

She rolls her eyes. "You can't consent if no doesn't mean anything. At least drink the water. I promise, no drugs." She leaves him alone with food he doesn't want to eat and he downs half the bottle of water. 

 

The girl collects the full plate in the morning and gives him another bottle of water. She's got a black eye and a handprint shaped bruise around her neck. "I'm just as fine as you are." She says when he stares at the bruises. "You don't exactly get used to obeying child snatchers, you know." 

She tells him about the seven year old in the room next door, who hasn't stopped crying for his mother in days. "They've started grabbing younger and younger. Little kids are easier to train, and after six you can pretty much tell how strong they will be." 

He nods. He was six when his mother admitted to having nothing left to teach him. He'd already surpassed her and everyone she knew. 

"If I find a way out of here, I'm going to get your collar off of you. We'll grab the kid, go to my mom. Elsbeth Priestly, you heard of her? She's-"

The girl jerks to her feet. "El- _Elsbeth Priestly,_ witch of the year '97 and '98, granddaughter of General Emmett Priestly, the woman who singlehandedly defeated the worst threat to our people in centuries in 2001? That's your mother?!"

He blinks. "Uh, yeah. Not exactly how she tells it but-" 

"Oh my god. We might actually get out of this!" She pumps her fist. "Elsbeth Priestly is gonna save us!" 

He doesn't bother reminding her that Elsbeth lost her magic in the very same battle to save the American Witches and now has to rely on others for help. Better to let her hope, it doesn't seem like she's had any in a long time.

 

The man returns later, glances at him, and smirks. "You like her, do you, little Cara? Never touched her myself, but Viper likes her well enough. He plans to give you a visit later, with my permission of course." 

Priestly jerks his head away. Doesn't want to look at him, think about him. He's still leaking cum, bruises that he'd normally be proud of on his flesh. 

"No pretty begging for Daddy today then?" The man looks disappointed, but the joy in his voice betrays him. "Oh well, Daddy'll just have to wring what he wants out of you. Strip, slut." 

Priestly's hands are shaking, but he goes for the button on the front of his pants and pulls them down and off, tossing them away before yanking his shirt off and throwing it out of sight. He waits for orders, demands, something. Anything. 

The man just stares at him. "I wonder, what would Elsbeth say if she knew her son was such a little whore?" 

Priestly jerks to his feet, fist up, battle stance. "Fuck you!" 

The man laughs. "Some fight left in you then. I was worried I'd have to make due with a broken toy tonight. If I'd known all it took to piss you off was mentioning your mother, well, I wouldn't have had so much trouble with you yesterday." 

Priestly grits his teeth. "You gonna fuck me or talk about my mother? She's kind of a major fucking turn off." 

He's pressed against the wall a moment later. "Legs up, slut. Wrap them around my waist." 

Priestly obeys, grabbing onto the man's shoulders for more leverage. "Happy, Daddy?" 

The clothed erection pressed against his ass twitches. The man really does love being called Daddy. "Very." He growls, undoing the button and zipper of his pants and yanking them down just enough to free his dick and thrust against Priestly. "You're still full of me." 

"It's exactly a shower in here." Priestly growls. "You don't seem to mind though." 

"Nope. Just saves me time." He presses in, grinning wolfishly. "You like that, baby? You're twitching says you do." 

"Will you shut up and fuck me?" Priestly leans his head back and groans. "You talk too much." 

And the sooner he gets to work, the sooner he gets off and it's over. The sooner Priestly gets to stew in self disgust and possibly the afterglow of an orgasm, he didn't even get that the night before. 

"You like it." The man nibbles his ear. "You're hard."

Arousal is not consent. 

"You know what, whatever. Take your time, I don't care. Not like I have anything better to do." Priestly scowls at the door, the only other thing that can draw his eye in this bland, empty room. 

"Aww, baby. Don't be like that. Daddy's gonna give you what you need, don't worry." He's fucking slow this time, soft and slow and where was soft and slow the day before when he was open and pliant and  _begging_ for it? When it would have been half a fucking comfort? 

If he gets out of this, he's calling Decker. He needs to be fucked by someone who won't play games. 

The faint pressure against his prostate is maddening, the dick inside him barely ghosting it, and it doesn't take much to make him devolve into whimpers and cries. It's not enough and it's too much at the same time. 

Eventually, the man cums inside and pulls out. Priestly falls to the floor, still hard, and curls in on himself. The man takes his clothes with him when he leaves. "You don't need these anymore." 

Priestly falls apart as soon as the door slams shut.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> All chapters will be 2k words or more and I currently have the first three written. I plan to update once a week. Comments make me write faster. Constructive critism is appreciated.


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